


Paying My Dues To The Dirt

by romajstorovic



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo - Star Wars [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Graphic Description of Corpses, Heavy Angst, Hostage Situations, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, No Major Character Death, Obi-Wan Kenobi Falls, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 18:48:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30143985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romajstorovic/pseuds/romajstorovic
Summary: Everyone has a limit.It’s a fact of life. Nobody can go on forever - human, zabrak, or nautolan, sith, jedi, or non-Force user: everyone has a limit. And it takes a group of bounty hunters in Separatist employ before anyone can find Obi-Wan’s.[Sith!Obi-Wan AU][BTHB Prompt: “Defeated and trophified”][Content warnings in chapter notes]
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody & Waxer, CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo - Star Wars [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2218626
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68





	Paying My Dues To The Dirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Hostage situation, descriptions of dead bodies, descriptions of vomiting

Everyone has a limit.

It’s a fact of life. Nobody can go on forever - human, zabrak, or nautolan, sith, jedi, or non-Force user: everyone has a limit. And it takes a group of bounty hunters in Separatist employ before anyone can find Obi-Wan’s.

Their orders had been simple: destroy the droid factory. It should’ve been easy. All they had to do was go in there, blow something up, and come out. Someone, Obi-Wan thinks as he grits his teeth, really, _really_ hates him.

The resulting battle hadn’t gone well. In fairness, Obi-Wan hadn’t expected it to; there were too many unknown variables to account for, too many chances to take. It felt that every choice he or his men made was just the wrong one.

You know what they say about hindsight.

Obi-Wan didn’t even know how many casualties there were. Rather than leaving the _vod_ dead where they fell, the Separatist droids were dragging them away, back to some hidden base. Probably back to wherever the hell the droids came from. The kriffing droids had even placed some kind of Force-dampener around the battlefield, so Obi-Wan couldn’t even go and check for survivors.

Obi-Wan comes back to himself and slices the legs out from under a droid that’s about to shoot Waxer. He quickly makes sure his Lieutenant is okay; Waxer’s helmet is devoid of emotion, but Obi-Wan can picture the frustrated smile that lies underneath.

“How’re you feeling, Waxer?” He asks.

“Hopefully this’ll be over soon, Sir,” Waxer says wryly, and the shooting stops.

Obi-Wan stares at him for a few seconds. “Did you somehow gain the ability to control reality since the last time we spoke?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

Waxer thinks.

“I want a king-sized bed with the softest kriffing blanket in existence,” he says loudly, and Obi-Wan chokes back a laugh. “I also want a sword!”

Nothing happens.

“ _Please_?”

Still nothing.

“Apparently not, Sir,” Waxer answer, voice so overly disappointed that Obi-Wan knows he’s just messing. “Shame. I still want that sword, though.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” the Jedi promises, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“General Kenobi!” Calls a voice Obi-Wan Kenobi is absolutely kriffing certain he’s never heard in his life. “I’ve got something of yours.”

Obi-Wan turns to face the source of the voice. It’s a tall, pale green twi’lek woman with a cruel smile twisting her face. Her left lekku is cut almost in half with an awful scar, and Obi-Wan winces just at the mere sight. She’s in plain armour, except for a single pauldron that shines bright with the familiar glint of impure beskar.

Obi-Wan has _absolutely no idea_ who she is.

“Obi-Wan,” she sings tauntingly. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Obi-Wan drags Waxer behind a twisted tree-stump that’s wider than the poor clone is tall. He instructs the Lieutenant to tell the rest of the troops to fall back, then settles in to watch the woman talk.

“Obi-Wan,” she calls again. “Ob’ika? No? Isn’t that what you like to be called now, hm? _Little Obi_?” The cruel, mocking tone does what it’s intended, and anger flares up in Obi-Wan’s chest. He breathes deep and slow, ignoring the concerned head-tilt from Waxer.

“He’s not coming. Bring them out!” Her voice cracks like a whip, and Waxer actually flinches before crawling past Obi-Wan to get a better view.

Three bodies are dragged out by three more bounty hunters. Two of the bounty hunters are human women, one tall and dark and the other small and fair, and the other hunter is a nautolan man, his skin a beautiful shade of lilac. The two humans are dragging helmetless clones that Obi-Wan recognises by sight, but not by name - they’re two of the new additions, fresh-faced and a little unsure of the world they’ve stepped into. They’re looking around, mostly at each other, and one almost reaches a hand out to grasp the other’s hand. The fair woman crushes his fingers with a stomp and he howls.

Watching the clones in horror, Obi-Wan realised he doesn’t even know their _names_. Bile builds up in his throat as the shinies are forced to kneel in front of the women holding them. The twi’lek _bitch_ practically bounces with insane glee.

Obi-Wan finally looks at the figure in the hands of the nautolan man and lets out a small, pained noise. The final clone, so much more defenceless than the others, is looking very pointedly at the floor, and the nautolan grabs his hair with so much more force than is necessary and almost breaks his neck making him look up.

It’s _Cody_.

Of _course_ it’s Cody. The universe hates Obi-Wan with a passion, he’d been a fool to think he’d be allowed to keep the one person who’d made him happy.

Cody, unlike the other two, is stripped down to his blacks. His hands are tied behind him, and the blood on the nautolan’s cheek indicates he hadn’t gone down without a fight. But, judging from the dark red mark around Cody’s eye, he’d got as good as he gave. He’s also gagged, and he’s struggling harder than Obi-Wan has ever seen him, trying to get out of his bonds.

Where Cody is fighting, bright and shining in the Forcd, the other two seem paralysed by fear. The one with the shattered hand is crying as silently as he can, and the other looks so kriffing scared. Waxer leans heavy on Obi-Wan, as if to hold himself back, and Obi-Wan leans back on him just as much.

“Here’s the thing, Ob’ika,” the twi’lek says, starting to pace. She waves her hands as she talks, clearly enjoying being the centre of attention. “My esteemed colleagues and I are being paid a _very_ large amount of money to get you back to our employer. And, obviously, we don’t have you. I’d rather like to rectify that, hm?” She reaches Cody, turning on a heel to face him. “I know how much you care for your men. _Strange_ , I thought, since Jedi are heartless creatures who aren’t allowed to love - but looking at your clone, I can see why you like them so much. It’s rather pretty, hm? Even with the scar.” She caresses Cody’s cheek, running a thumb over his scar, and he snaps at her. He almost takes her thumb off. “Ooh, it’s got teeth!” She cries, delighted. “Shame I can’t keep it. You’d make a wonderful pet, dear.” She pats his cheek twice then steps back.

Waxer is shaking with rage. His entire body is tense like a strung bow, and Obi-Wan does not want to get caught in the crossfire. The Jedi is furious too, but he’s better at hiding it; he’s used to having to compartmentalise, to crush his feelings into a tiny ball and deal with them later, and that’s exactly what he’s doing now.

“I can’t get a clear shot,” Waxer says, agonised. “They’re using the _vod_ as shields.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and breathes in deep and slow. They’re going to be fine. Everyone is going to be _fine_. He’s going to come up with some insane plan that shouldn’t work but does and he’s going to save his men and they are all going to be fine.

(Are they? Are they really?)

“I could really use some of that reality warping right now,” Waxer says, and Obi-Wan responds with a thin smile.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” the twi’lek calls out. “I’m going to give you ten seconds to throw your lightsaber to us and come quietly. If you don’t, I’m going to get my darling girlfriends here to shoot your men. And we have a lot more in the custody of the droids, so we can go for as long as we need to. You like this one, yes? CC-2224 and its pretty, damaged face?” She practically spits out his designation, overpronouncing each character. She laughs again, shrill and criminally insane. “Then I think I’ll save this one for last.” She’s stood behind Cody now, tenderly running her fingers through his hair. She brings her other hand to his throat and runs her fingers down his windpipe.

“Eltrys, my darling,” she trills, looking at the tall woman. “Count to ten, for me.”

Eltrys begins to count, and Obi-Wan recognises the thick, Stewjoni way of speaking. Somehow that hurts more than seeing the boys on their knees, and he despises himself for his callousness.

“Seven,” Eltrys intones. Then a pause that’s at least three seconds long. Obi-Wan looks desperately for an opening, any opening, that he can exploit in order to get to his men.

Nothing. Not a _single_ weakness.

Not like the weaknesses Obi-Wan had shown.

(Maybe Qui-Gon was right.)

“Ten,” Eltrys says, and Obi-Wan feels Waxer tense behind him.

The twi’lek woman sighs, moving to stand on her tiptoes. She reminds Obi-Wan of a ballerina, except ballerinas aren’t usually in full armour and holding the love of his life hostage.

“Good _choice_ , Ob’ika,” she crows. “Eltrys - fire.”

There’s a quiet shot of blaster fire, and the trooper who’d been silently crying falls forward. What’s left of his head hits the dirt, and Obi-Wan feels every single soldier flinch. Cody screams, a horrible, vengeful sound, even muffled as it is through his gag, and the twi’lek laughs. Cody strains against the hand wrapped around his throat, even going to far as to try to headbutt the woman holding him, but it just makes her cackle harder. She has the audacity to press a kiss to his forehead and quietly croon to him as he grieves.

The other trooper, the one who’d been frozen in shock, stares at the body of his brother. His breathing picks up and Obi-Wan can see his mouth moving in what is probably a prayer.

(It’s what Obi-Wan would do in his position, anyway.)

“Elenja, you know what to do,” the twi’lek commands, and the second woman begins to count. Obi-Wan looks back at Waxer, desperation on his features. Waxer shrugs, even more helpless than Obi-Wan.

“Whatever you decide, Sir,” he promises, “I’ll follow you.”

The ensnared trooper turns his head to lock eyes with Cody, who’s still struggling furiously. There are desperate tears in his eyes, and he’s trying to spit out his gag, but a well-placed kick to the stomach from the twi’lek puts a stop to that.

“I don’t blame you for this, _ori’vod_ ,” the trooper says, voice shaking. “I promise.” Then his ten seconds are up, there’s the horrible sound of a blaster, and he collapses next to the other body.

Cody simply stares at him, shoulders down, slowly rocking back and forth on his knees. The woman lets him go, handing him back to the nautolan, and she claps her hands together. “I know this hurts,” she purrs. “I can smell it in the wind. You’re hurt and angry and afraid, Ob’ika - why not simply end it all now? You could _stop_ this. Look at what you’re doing! You’re killing your...” She nudges a body with her toe. “... _toys_.”

“General, you can’t go out there,” Waxer pleads, eyes fixated on his brothers’ remains. “She’ll kill you.”

“If I don’t, she’ll kill Cody,” Obi-Wan responds, voice cracking. “Him and all the others they’ve taken. I can’t let that happen. I can’t.”

The twi’lek kicks Cody in the back of the head, sending him sprawling to the floor in a grotesque imitation of his dead brothers. She plants her boot firmly on the back of his neck, and suddenly Waxer is the one holding Obi-Wan back instead of it being the other way round.

“Waxer, let me go,” Obi-Wan hisses, trying his best to wrench his arms free of the lock his Lieutenant has him in. “Let me _go_!”

“I can’t, Sir,” Waxer says, sounding like he’s crying. “You’ll get killed.”

“Let me go!” He hisses again, angrier. “Lieutenant!”

“Oh, Ob’ika,” the twi’lek says. “I expected better from you.” She sounds genuinely disappointed, and moves her foot to the small of Cody’s back. “I was told you loved him.”

She levels her blaster at Cody’s head and squeezes the trigger.

Obi-Wan shatters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, guys!! let me know what you think, please. and before you start yelling at me, i haven’t killed cody. and waxer will get his sword.


End file.
